


Heart beating like a drum

by klari19



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bokuto is a total mess omg please understand the poor kid, Confusion, Getting Together, Kenma is confused about his own feelings, Kuroo accidentaly sets up the two of them omf, M/M, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 19:50:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6253675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klari19/pseuds/klari19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma continued to eat his apple pie roll, trying to ignore the uncontrollable chuckles rising from his manager friend and from the one who would be his very first artistic collaborator.</p><p>While he bit into the sweet pastry, Kenma thought about what he had learned so far about Bokuto.</p><p>First, he had a beautiful voice, and Kenma had to admit he couldn’t wait to hear him sing once more.</p><p>Second, he had a strange and slightly irregular character, and appeared to sometimes be “too full of himself.” Kenma didn’t know what to think of that yet.</p><p>Third, Bokuto made Kenma’s heart beat like a drum and he didn’t know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart beating like a drum

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blameless_nameless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blameless_nameless/gifts).



> This is a pinch hit for Kathryn!!
> 
> The moment I read BokuKen and "music AU" in your list of prompts I ~~started screaming~~ got really excited, and this is the result of that excitement! :'DD  
>  This began as a Music AU, but then I accidentally added in the "covered in flour" part of your second prompt, and by then end I realized I also added in a little bit of the  [third prompt](http://thatotherrpmeme.tumblr.com/post/96581838082/nonsexual-acts-of-intimacy-select-from-the) you sent. Omg. Yeah, this got a little bit out of control lmao  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!! (and I hope to have done good justice to my chosen pairing and your prompts!)  
> Happy white day... and pie day! //wINKS AT U (you'll understand soon. btw that was also very unplanned lmao)

“Kenma, if you accept this collab your reputation will automatically boost.” Kuroo spoke through the microphone from the other side of the recording room.

The young musician, with a hand loosely wrapped around the fretboard of his guitar now that he wasn’t playing, lifted his face from his notes and stared at his manager through the window. Kuroo was looking back at him with pleading eyes, surely dreading the moment when Kenma would refuse the offer – it wouldn’t be the first time though.

Truth is, Kenma didn’t feel very comfortable with making collabs. He had a very particular way of writing his music, and he though that if he tried to create anything with another musician their opinions and musical methods would clash for the worst. Needless to say, he also had a hard time with the social aspects of general life and his job, as well as with presenting himself to the public – reason why Kuroo had spoken about his “reputation” and the need to increase it (at least by a little).

Kuroo’s soft sigh brought Kenma back from the realm of his thoughts.

“I know… It’s difficult for you. But I promise you it’ll be okay. He’s a good friend of mine, and he’s a really cool guy, so you don’t need to worry.”

Kenma bit his lower lip and drew in a deep breath, releasing it in a soft chuckle. He really wasn’t paying Kuroo enough for the amount of work he did for him, but the guy wouldn’t accept a raise in his salary anyway.

 _It won’t hurt if I try it once… right? And I’m sure Kuroo will intervene if things go down._ Kenma thought to himself.

“If I accept…” Kenma began softly, and he could hear Kuroo’s sharp intake of breath through the speakers. “ _If_ I accept, you’ll have my back? If it turns out badly?”

Kuroo’s lips parted with a gentle smile when he spoke, “Of course. We’re best friends.”

The older man lifted his fist and pressed it to the window between the two rooms, and Kenma chuckled as he raised his own hand for a long-distance fist bump.

“Alright then, I’ll do this collab.” Kenma finally stated. A light anxiety made his stomach churn a little, but his resolve didn’t waver.

Kenma heard a muffled _“Yesh”_ from the other room, then Kuroo said, “Thank you, Kenma. I promise this will be good.”

“Mm,” the younger one hummed softly, taking out other sheets from his bag and setting them on the music stand in front of him. “I just hope this friend of yours isn’t as loud as you get sometimes,” Kenma murmured absentmindedly.

Kuroo coughed a little and cleared his throat.

When Kenma looked up to him once more, he saw him scratching the back of his neck. Something told him he would eventually regret having accepted the offer.

“That… might be a bit of a problem.”

* * *

 

Kenma sat comfortably on the sofa of the break room of the studio, going through his latest compositions and choosing the ones he wanted to record next, when a thundering voice echoed into the entrance hallway.

“Hey hey hey!”

Startled, his head shot up to search for the origin of the voice, and he was met with a sturdy frame clad in dark blue. His black-streaked gray hair stood up from his skull in spikes, giving him a striking resemblance to an owl. His big, golden eyes were curious and lit up with genuine excitement. Finally, his wide, slightly crooked smile was strangely beautiful.

But he was the complete opposite of calm.

Kenma gaped a little, shaken by the overwhelmingly energetic presence that was already making its way towards him. Tilting his head to the side and looking beyond the newcomer, Kenma caught a glimpse of Kuroo who was taking off his shoes by the door. He exhaled in relief.

“Hey there! I’m Bokuto Koutarou, nice to meet you!” the man exclaimed.

He reached out a hand towards Kenma, and Kenma shook it lightly. His broad palm completely enclosed Kenma’s, and Kenma felt like his hand had been wrapped in a warm blanket.

“Kenma Kozume. Nice to meet you too,” Kenma replied, his voice merely a breath.

Bokuto’s smile widened even more, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he continued to shake Kenma’s hand vigorously.

Kuroo walked into the room when Kenma started feeling like his arm might fall off.

“Bokuto, I think it’s okay to let go of him now,” Kuroo commented with a partly amused, partly concerned smile.

“Ah, yes, sorry,” Bokuto said, instantly releasing Kenma’s hand but keeping his eyes locked to Kenma’s. “Your hand is really tiny and cute, though. I wanted to keep it forever.”

Kuroo choked on his spit, and Kenma averted his gaze, ears slightly warmer than before.

“I – I need it to play my music…” Kenma stuttered.

Bokuto howled with laughter, a hand pressed to his chest as he threw his head back.

“Oh God, you’re so funny, Kenma,” the gray-haired man said then, laughter still bubbling in his throat as he wiped a stray tear. “But you’re right, you do need it for your music.”

“Yes, music,” Kuroo said then, matter-of-factly, “that’s precisely what you guys are here for.”

“Right!” Bokuto exclaimed, clapping his hands together and flopping down on the couch beside Kenma.

Turning to face Kenma, Bokuto looked at the younger one with the intensity of an excited puppy – he even seemed to be vibrating a little.

“Um,” Kenma murmured softly, still struggling to adjust to Bokuto’s excited atmosphere.

He pressed his sheet music to his chest and cleared his throat, unsure about what to say.

A heavy silence hung above them for a few moments, but Kuroo interrupted it for a moment, thankfully.

“You guys should start by getting to know each other. Ask each other questions, or something. I’ll go to the kitchen and prepare something to eat and drink, I’ll be back in a moment,” he said.

Kenma thought he heard him whisper _“I hope they didn’t burn”_ before he disappeared into the adjacent room, but he wasn’t sure.

The oppressive silence stretched between the two remaining men, and Kenma struggled with his social awkwardness. He _knew_ he needed to say something, but he didn’t know _how_. It was extremely frustrating.

“So,” Bokuto began after a while, and Kenma could hear the excitement in his murmur, “what’s your favorite Eighties’ song?”

Kenma blinked.

“My favorite… Eighties’ song?”

Was Bokuto referring to songs from the Eighties in Japan, or _those_ famous Eighties’ songs? He didn’t know.

“Yeah! For example, uh…” Bokuto trailed off, raising his gaze to the ceiling, thinking. Then he looked down at Kenma, eyes glimmering with enthusiasm, and said, “Do you want me to sing you mine?”

“Sure.” Kenma whispered, uncertain of what to expect.

Bokuto cleared his throat loudly and cracked his neck. Throwing an arm over the backrest, he leaned closer to Kenma as the latter drew back ever so slightly – the smaller one felt like a trapped mouse now.

With their noses only inches apart, and with Kenma feeling like he’d melt into the liquid gold of Bokuto’s eyes, the gray-haired man begun singing in a whisper.

“[I wanna know what love is…](https://youtu.be/raNGeq3_DtM) I want you to show me… I wanna feel what love is… I know you can show me…” 

Kenma’s eyes widened instantly and he looked to the side, bringing up his sheet music to cover his face up to his nose. He felt himself burning up as he squirmed a little in his seat.

In all honesty, what had shaken Kenma wasn’t so much the choice of song, but –

the tone of Bokuto’s voice when he sang.

It was low and husky and just a tad hoarse, and it had pulled on some strings in Kenma’s heart and he didn’t really know why.

He tried to conceal his surprise and amazement, though. Yet, he couldn’t help but tell Bokuto how nice his voice was.

“Mm,” the other hummed, a wide grin pulling at his lips as he leaned back against the sofa and continued in a self-satisfied tone, “I know I have a good voice.”

In that moment, Kenma felt sourness spread over his tongue, and he grimaced a little as if it had been real. He frowned almost imperceptibly.

He had just complimented the guy. What kind of person was he not to be able to show an ounce of humbleness at the comment?

“You could at least say ‘Thank you,’ you know,” Kuroo said then as he came in through the doorframe.

The dark-haired man deposited a plate on the low center table. Inside it there was a teapot, three cups and an Kenma’s favorite sweets – apple pie rolls.

“Yes, sorry! You’re right, Kuroo,” Bokuto said hurriedly, then he turned to Kenma with an apologetic expression, “Thank you, Kenma. Sorry about that.”

Kenma shook his head softly, still a little confused but understanding.

“It’s fine.”

“He’s too full of himself,” Kuroo spoke then, sitting down on an armchair across from them and taking a baked roll from the plate.

“I am not!” Bokuto exclaimed.

“Yes you _are_.”

“Okay maybe I am. But just a little… and I’m actually trying to work on that!”

Kuroo threw his head back, howling in laughter, as Bokuto pouted.

The appetizing smell of Kuroo’s homemade apple pie rolls drew Kenma towards the table, and he grabbed one of them. Bringing it to his nose, he inhaled the delicious scent; his mouth watered.

As Kenma was taking his first bite, Bokuto spoke up once more, “Oh! You didn’t tell me what your favorite Eighties’ song is!”

Kuroo face-palmed and sighed, laughter rising up in his throat once more as he smiled.

“You can’t be serious…”

“I am!” Bokuto spoke. “Please do tell me, Kenma,” Bokuto murmured then, excited, bringing a teacup to his lips and looking at the younger one over the rim of the cup.

Kenma shifted awkwardly in his seat.

He’d always found all songs from the Eighties (and other previous decades) to be embarrassingly sappy, but there was one that he enjoyed listening to… Maybe because it wasn’t as awkward as the other ones.

“I think ‘[Get out of your lazy bed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vAc4q1YqdOU)’ might be my favorite,” he murmured with his apple pie roll pressed to his lower lip and gazing down at his knees. 

“Yeah, he had it as his alarm ringtone back when we were in college,” Kuroo said with a grin.

“It’s because – !” Kenma began, flustered that Kuroo had mentioned that. “It’s because it helps me get up in the morning…” he muttered finally.

“Oh, so you still wake up to it?” Bokuto questioned then, amused.

“I never said something like that!” Kenma blurted out, cheeks burning.

Both older men laughed, the sound of their loud voices echoing off the walls of the break room and giving Kenma an aggressive need to shrink himself down.

Kenma continued to eat his apple pie roll, trying to ignore the uncontrollable chuckles rising from his manager friend and from the one who would be his very first artistic collaborator.

While he bit into the sweet pastry, Kenma thought about what he had learned so far about Bokuto.

First, he had a beautiful voice, and Kenma had to admit he couldn’t wait to hear him sing once more.

Second, he had a strange and slightly irregular character, and appeared to sometimes be “too full of himself.” Kenma didn’t know what to think of that yet.

Third, Bokuto made Kenma’s heart beat like a drum and he didn’t know why.

* * *

 

Over the next few days, Kenma and Bokuto met up to discuss about what kind of song they wanted to create. They exchanged ideas and tried out putting them into music. Kenma would be on the piano or the guitar, and Bokuto would strum his guitar. But even though they had melodies, they hadn’t been able to think about any lyrics yet.

In any case, those were moments of deep thought as well as light chatter, and every day Kenma felt more and more used to being around Bokuto, even though he still had some difficulties at opening up to him and understanding Bokuto’s (sometimes) strange character. But, thankfully, Kuroo was always be there with them, and he often helped when Bokuto started “getting out of control.”

But on one particular morning, Kuroo told Kenma he had to meet up with Bokuto’s manager, Akaashi Keiji, to talk about the collaboration, and that since he would be getting back to town at night that day he wouldn’t be able to be at the studio with them until the day after.

The young one was still unsure of how to handle Bokuto alone, but he inhaled deeply, prayed a little, and told himself that it would certainly not be too bad.

But, oh, was he wrong.

Kenma opened the door of the studio and untied his shoes. Leaving them by the door, he cautiously stepped into the house.

It smelt like something was burning.

“Hello?” he called softly.

There was a rattle, the sound of pans and plates clinking together but thankfully not breaking, and a string of muttered curses.

Then Bokuto’s voice rose up clearly from the kitchen, “Ah! Kenma, you’re here!”

Kenma stepped into the small room, coughing a little and waving a hand in front of his face to dissipate the smoke.

He saw Bokuto, face and clothes covered almost completely in white with something that looked like flour, giving him a wide grin while holding a pan in his hand.

“What did you…” Kenma trailed off, voice soft, gaping at the mess in front of him and on the counter.

There was a pancake batter box dangling on the edge of the counter, and that was a good enough answer for Kenma.

“I’m sorry…” Bokuto murmured, putting down the skillet, his expression turning into one of sadness.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” Kenma said softly, trying to find the right words to say.

Kenma had never been good at dealing with emotions, be it his own or anyone else’s, and he was unsure of what to do in that moment when he saw Bokuto’s expression crumble down.

“I wanted to give you a nice surprise, since you always look so tense.” Bokuto mumbled, raising his gaze, sad eyes looking directly into Kenma’s.

Kenma froze. Was he that obvious? Was he really unable to hide his uneasiness? It wasn’t that Bokuto made him uncomfortable, he felt awkward because of _himself_. So why…?

Kenma decided to tell him the truth. Or at least what he, himself, understood about it.

“That’s because – your presence unsettles me,” Kenma whispered.

Bokuto’s lips curled up into a grin, and he looked at Kenma with an eyebrow quirked up. Kenma gulped down.

“Oh, really?” Bokuto said in a sulky voice, resting a hand on his hip and the other –

_over the blazing hot cooktop._

Bokuto’s eyes widened instantly and his mouth opened up in a silent shout. He jumped away from the stove, gripping his injured palm with his other hand and wheezing loudly as he looked down at it.

All the blood drained from Kenma’s face as he gazed at the glistening and red skin of Bokuto’s burnt hand. It took him a moment to really understand what had happened, and he finally got himself into motion.

Moving over to the small fridge, he extracted an ice pack from the bottom cooler and rolled a kitchen towel around it. Passing by the stove again on his way back to Bokuto, he turned the knob to _Off_ before pressing the cold bundle into Bokuto’s hand.

He held the back of Bokuto’s hand in his own while pressing the ice pack over his palm. Somewhere in the back of his mind Kenma thought about how warmer Bokuto’s hands felt now, much more that when they’d shaken hands for the first time. If it was because of the burn or because of something else, Kenma didn’t know.

“Does it hurt?” Kenma asked softly, deeply concerned.

Bokuto was panting lightly, but he managed to speak after a few moments, “No… It feels good with your hand touching mine.”

Kenma shivered a little, ready to die of embarrassment, and stuttered out, “O – okay… I’m glad it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Bokuto chuckled and leaned closer to him, wrapping his free hand around Kenma’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug.

“You’re really cute, Kenma. I like you.”

Kenma’s eyes widened in surprise, and he felt his heart stop beating inside his chest. He gasped silently, trying to draw in the oxygen his brain needed to start functioning again but only managing to inhale Bokuto’s scent. That didn’t help at all.

He didn’t know what to think of Bokuto’s comment, but one thing was sure: Kenma was more than unsettled by it.

He tried to play it off coolly, and said, “Are you sure you didn’t burn a few neurons?”

“I meant what I said, Kenma.” Bokuto murmured, his breath brushing Kenma’s hair softly.

 _What. Is. Happening._ Kenma thought to himself, panicking a little as his heart started beating once more, but at a faster pace than it usually did.

They remained like that, Bokuto with an arm curled around Kenma, breathing into the younger one’s hair, and Kenma too stunned to move as his thoughts raced in his mind until the dangling pancake batter box fell to the ground with a thud (apparently Bokuto hadn’t used all of its contents).

The sound brought Kenma back from his thoughts.

“Too cold,” Kenma murmured, and gently pulled away from Bokuto’s warm embrace.

It pained him to do so, but he knew that in order to calm down and collect his thoughts he needed space. He hoped Bokuto would understand without him having to explain to him.

Bokuto looked down at the ice pack in his hand, his expression seemingly unfazed as he realized Kenma had pulled his hand away from it.

“Ah yes, sorry.”

There was a hint of sadness in Bokuto’s apology, but Kenma tried to ignore it as best as he could.

Silence fell over them then, just like when they’d met. And Kenma, once more, mentally cursed his awkwardness and inability to find anything good to say.

He scratched his head a little, and cleared his throat. The faint smell of smoke suddenly re-entered through his nostrils.

“Why don’t we… move to the break room… The smell…” Kenma murmured, internally cringing at the obvious unease in his voice.

“Right,” Bokuto said curtly.

Kenma nodded, then turned on his heels to exit the kitchen.

He padded towards the break room and sat down on his usual spot on the sofa. Bokuto, on the other hand, didn’t sit down beside Kenma, as he usually did. Instead, the other man pulled the armchair closer to the sofa and sat down on it, facing Kenma and eyeing him with his hypnotizing golden gaze.

Kenma gulped down, feeling strangely intimidated by the strength in those beautiful eyes.

Feeling like his heart was about to leap out of his chest, Kenma grabbed the bag he’d previously left on the sofa on his way in, and extracted his notebook. He decided to look down at it to escape Bokuto’s unwavering gaze.

Flipping the pages to found what he was looking for, Kenma spoke up hesitantly, “So, uh. I thought about a melody… But with your injured hand we won’t really be able to play it together yet.”

Bokuto didn’t respond, and Kenma fought back the urge to inhale deeply to calm down his growing anxiety. He definitely wasn’t used to Bokuto being so quiet and unmoving.

“Here, um. You can look at it if you want,” he said, putting the book down on the low table between them and pushing it slightly in Bokuto’s direction. Bokuto didn’t look at it, nor did his free hand move to grab it. Kenma shifted awkwardly in his seat, and he continued, “If you don’t like it we can work on it together, modify it, rewrite it, whatever. We’re both in this collab after a –”

“Is the collab everything you think about?” Bokuto said then in a low murmur, interrupting Kenma.

Kenma stilled. His next words disappeared in his throat like smoke dissipating in the wind. He blinked repeatedly, trying to catch the meaning of Bokuto’s words.

“Uh?”

He gazed at Bokuto, who was breathing heavily and nervously running his free hand through his hair while still looking at Kenma,

“Haven’t you realized anything yet?” he said then in a strangled whisper.

Kenma frowned, startled at the sudden change in Bokuto’s behavior.

“Bokuto… What –”

The other raised a hand in the air, finally looking away from Kenma’s eyes to stare at the ceiling, and exclaimed, “Ha! Amazing!”

“Please explain to me, I don’t unders –”

Bokuto’s eyes shot down to look into Kenma’s once more. His pupils were blown wide, eyes glistening and almost

_panicked._

“I’m in love with you, Kenma!” Bokuto shouted, startling the younger man.

Kenma’s breath caught in his throat.

The suddenness of Bokuto’s words. The loudness of his voice. Everything made Kenma’s mind swirl and turn and twist and he felt a little dizzy.

Shock. He was shocked.

And Bokuto was shocked as well.

“I’m s – I’m sorry, Kenma. Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to – I didn’t mean to –”

“You need to calm down, Bokuto,” Kenma whispered, cutting short Bokuto’s ramble.

He slowly rose up from his seat, looking at Bokuto but unable to actually see him through his unfocused eyes.

“Kenma please don’t – I’m sorry…” Bokuto continued in a whine.

Kenma walked towards the door, noticing the steps behind him but doing nothing to stop them.

Kneeling down, Kenma put on his shoes, then straightened up, grabbing the doorknob and twisting it.

“Please don’t – Kenma please don’t go, let me explain, please,” Bokuto was sobbing now.

Kenma didn’t turn around.

“Please don’t follow me outside, Bokuto,” he murmured weakly, then opened the door and exited the house.

As he walked down the path of the house that led to the street illuminated by the setting sun, he thought he heard Bokuto cry out a few curses. He also thought he heard him bang his fist against the door in frustration, probably. But Kenma wasn’t sure. And he couldn’t go back to check anymore.

* * *

 

When Kenma woke up in his bed and saw that everything was dark he thought everything had been a strange dream, and that he’d woken up early in the morning. He thought maybe Kuroo would text him something different than _Put up with Bokuto for one day, please_ , as he’d done in what he believed to be his dream _._ But he was soon reminded that the day had already passed, that it wasn’t morning but night, and that it all had been real after all.

**_(7) missed calls from Kuroo Tetsurou_ **

Kenma sighed, biting his nails as he gazed at the screen of his phone, then checked his mailbox.

From: Kuroo Tetsurou  
To: Me  
(08.23 pm) Kenma, please answer my calls

(08.45 pm) Kenma

(08.46 pm) Bokuto won’t tell me anything, so I need you to tell me what happened

(08.46 pm) If you don’t want to call please text me

He really didn’t feel like calling Kuroo in that moment. He was still trying to understand what had happened back in the break room of the studio, what Bokuto’s actions and words meant, what his own reaction meant, and he was unsure if he wanted to go into details with Kuroo. He was still shaken and confused by everything that had happened.

As he pondered the good and bad of texting Kuroo back, his phone vibrated in his hand.

(08.52 pm) Kenma, please. Don’t make me go there

Kuroo was able to come to his house if Kenma didn’t respond to his texts, Kenma was completely aware of that possibility – especially since it had already happened in the past –, therefore he decided to let Kuroo know he was alive, at least.

To: Kuroo Tetsurou  
From: Me  
(08.54 pm) I don’t want to talk about it

From: Kuroo Tetsurou  
To: Me  
(08.55 pm) Okay, I understand

(08.56 pm) But please talk to Bokuto

To: Kuroo Tetsurou  
From: Me  
(08.55 pm) I don’t want to talk to him

From: Kuroo Tetsurou  
To: Me  
(08.57 pm) If you don’t talk to him, he’ll talk to you

(08.57 pm) It’s your choice

(08.58 pm) He’ll be back at the studio in 3 days. His hand should have healed by then

To: Kuroo Tetsurou  
From: Me  
(08.58 pm) I’m not going to the studio then

From: Kuroo Tetsurou  
To: Me  
(08.59 pm) By the way, the ice pack was good thinking. It helped starting the healing process

(09.00 pm) Kenma…

Kenma could perfectly imagine the older man sighing.

(09.03 pm) Something has to be done about this

(09.04 pm) I know I told you I’d have your back, but I can’t do anything if I don’t know what happened

Kenma didn’t blame Kuroo for what had happened. He wasn’t mad at him…

(09.04 pm) Anyway, whatever Bokuto did, he said he’s really sorry about it

Kenma’s heart clenched, for reasons still unknown to him, and he drew in a sharp inhale.

To: Kuroo Tetsurou  
From: Me  
(09.05 pm) I won’t accept his apologies through you

From: Kuroo Tetsurou  
To: Me  
(09.06 pm) Then you’ll come to the studio and hear them from him?

Kenma froze, realizing about his slip.

To: Kuroo Tetsurou  
From: Me  
(09.08 pm) I never said that

From: Kuroo Tetsurou  
To: Me  
(09.09 pm) Okay

Kuroo was laughing at him. It was more than obvious.

(09.10 pm) Well, I said what I wanted to say

(09.10 pm) Now it’s up to you to decide what to do

To: Kuroo Tetsurou  
From: Me  
(09.11) Okay. I’ll think about it. Goodnight Kuroo

From: Kuroo Tetsurou  
To: Me  
(09.12 pm) Okay. Goodnight Kenma

Kenma gazed at the screen for a few moments after that, then he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

He set his phone down on the bedside table and let himself fall back into his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He had three days to think about what Bokuto had said and what he would do about it.

* * *

“I’m glad you came, Kenma,” Kuroo said when he opened the door of the studio to the smaller man three days after the incident had happened.

“I’m still surprised I’m here,” Kenma murmured while taking off his shoes.

He heard Kuroo chuckle softly, then straightened up. He realized he was biting his nails again and hastily removed his fingers from his mouth, stuffing his hands in his pant pockets and gazing down at the ground.

“Hey,” Kuroo said softly then, putting a hand over Kenma’s shoulder and squeezing it lightly, “I’m sure you guys will work things out.”

Kenma nodded once, breathing in deeply.

“I’m guessing he’s in the break room?” he asked.

“Actually… He’s in the recording room,” Kuroo responded.

Kenma looked up at him, brows furrowed in surprise. Kuroo just shrugged, looking equally stupefied, and waved his hand, prompting Kenma to go inside.

They made their way into the small house, and with each step Kenma’s heartbeat grew faster and louder in his ears.

When he pushed open the door of the recording room, Kenma felt as if he was going to faint.

“Hey there,” Bokuto spoke softly from where he sat, looking back at Kenma, a guitar already sitting on his lap.

Kenma gripped a stool that rested near the wall, and pulled it to place it beside Bokuto. He sat down with his back straight, legs bouncing lightly.

“Hi. How’s your hand?” Kenma whispered, looking down at his feet.

He wasn’t ready to meet Bokuto’s impressive gaze just yet.

“It’s good now, thanks,” the other replied.

Kuroo was probably trying to make them think he wasn’t there, but Kenma still heard him through the speakers when he cleared his throat lightly.

After that, there was a short silence during which Kenma gazed at his feet and twiddled his thumbs, nervous about what would happen next – if anything was about to happen.

He sensed Bokuto shifting beside him, and, shortly after, the gray-haired man’s voice rose up hesitantly, “I… I worked on your melody… I added a second guitar, so you can join me whenever you’re ready…”

Only then did Kenma muster enough strength to look into Bokuto’s eyes, an he dove into the molten gold of Bokuto’s irises as the man began to strum softly.

The melody was slow and gentle, a little different from what Kenma had originally written, but it flowed beautifully through the strings of Bokuto’s acoustic guitar as he moved his fingers over them without a trace of hesitation.

Kenma’s breathing faltered when he realized that Bokuto was playing without even looking at his sheet music. Just how much had Bokuto practiced during the past three days? And… with his injured hand…

Bokuto was truly amazing, and Kenma was really –

Kenma’s eyes widened, but he didn’t look away from Bokuto’s gentle ones.

He gasped a little as everything suddenly dawned on him.

Somehow, in that moment, the words he’d always needed to say but didn’t know he wanted to came to him naturally. Thankfully, there was a notepad and a pen on a nearby table.

He scribbled quickly, listening carefully to the melody that still came from Bokuto’s strumming beside him, often striking over his notes and hastily correcting them.

When he was satisfied with what he’d written, he placed the notepad beside Bokuto’s sheets on the music stand before them.

Without a word, Kenma got up from his seat and moved to grab his guitar. Bokuto didn’t stop playing, looping the melody with imperceptible joining chords.

Sitting down on the small stool once more, Kenma placed the guitar on his lap and looked at Bokuto’s sheet notes. He identified what Bokuto was playing at the moment and engaged into the next beat, playing the chords that had been written for the second guitar.

The sounds of both guitars melted into each other naturally, as if both men had been playing together for years. It was a beautiful melody, and it felt as if a soft, warm mantle had been laid over their backs, uniting them as they kept on playing.

Kenma breathed in deeply, identifying the start of the next loop in the melody.

He nodded to Bokuto, who nodded back, and they both looked at the lyrics and accompanying chords which Kenma had written on the notepad.

Both their voices rose up together when they reached the cue Kenma had carefully noted down on the paper.

_“Give me release_

_Let the waves of time and space surround me_

_Yeah_

_‘Cause I need room to breathe_

_Let me float back to the place you found me_

_[I'll be okay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1djDwMlDCPg)” _

The melody slowly and gracefully started dying down when they reached the end of the lyrics. But the sounds, both from the guitars and their voices, remained echoing into their ears for far longer.

Breathless, Kenma peeled his eyes from the notepad and gazed into Bokuto’s golden orbs. The gray-haired man looked back at him, jaw hanging slack in pure astonishment.

The typical _beep!_ that indicated the end of a recording made them realize – _remember_ – they were in an actual recording room and that they certainly weren’t alone.

They averted their gazes just as Kuroo’s voice streamed softly from the speakers, “Just letting you guys know… It’s recorded. All of it. Now I’m going to, uh, go get a coffee.”

Kuroo turned off his mic and exited the room before Kenma or Bokuto could react to his words.

The silence they fell into after playing their music was almost deafening. Paradoxically.

But maybe they didn’t need to speak, after all. The lyrics had been explicit enough, and Kenma hoped Bokuto would understand what he meant through them.

Still –

“I’m sorry,” Bokuto whispered, “about the other day… I realized about my feelings all of a sudden and definitely wanted to let you know, but I didn’t know how… And then – what I did – I was scared at myself, at my own loss of control. After that I thought I’d never see you anym – Kenma?”

As Bokuto spoke, Kenma got up from his seat and carefully placed his guitar down on the ground before walking up to Bokuto.

Standing in front of the gray-haired man, Kenma leaned down and pressed his lips to Bokuto’s.

If was only a short kiss, but the brief and gentle contact of their lips remained imprinted on their skin even after they parted.

Kenma gazed down at the ground – at their feet – and spoke up softly, “I need… time…”

It took a moment for Bokuto to process his words and react.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, then, in a murmur, “Yes, I know… I think I understood that from… what you wrote,” he said. “I totally understand, Kenma. And I’ll wait for you.”

“You don’t look like the patient type, thought,” Kenma said, jokingly, a small laugh bubbling up in his throat as he kept looking down at the ground.

“I’m working on it. For you.”

He raised his face and looked into Bokuto’s eyes. There was pure determination in them.

Blood rushed up to Kenma’s cheeks, and he hid his face into his palm and he pressed his other hand over Bokuto’s own features.

Bokuto burst into laughter and pushed his guitar aside, placing it against the nearby wall before wrapping his arms around Kenma’s waist and pulling him against him. Kenma didn’t resist, and curled his own arms around Bokuto’s neck, pressing his cheek into the man’s gray and spiky hair.

With his face buried into Kenma’s chest, Bokuto murmured, “I’ll wait for you, Kenma. I’ll wait a million years for you, if you need me to, because I really love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I WROTE THIS SO FAST FKJGHRKJH I'm sorry if there are plot holes and stuff that leaves you a bit ????? But feel free to tell me about those, and I'll work on them as soon as possible!  
> I hope you liked this! I really _REALLY_ had a lot of fun writing this ;u; ~~/SCREAMING/ I LOVE BOKUKEN SO MUCH~~  
>  And if you feel like it, please come visit me on tumblr at kuroosthighz!


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